Page 43 of Mr. Darcy's Christmas Letters
“Elizabeth,” Papa said as she entered, confusion writ upon his countenance. “Have you not always hated this man?”
She closed the door behind her. “As late as April of this year, I did believe I hated him,” Elizabeth said quietly. “But what I held to his account was either a misunderstanding on my part or something he has remedied since. You know we met each other at Rosings, and then again when my aunt and uncle wished to see Pemberley.”
Her father eyed her shrewdly. “And you began your acquaintance over again at Rosings?”
She shook her head. “We quarrelled at Rosings, but it was there I learned how wrong I had been. I did not expect to see him again, and I was determined not to regret him.”
“But then you met again at Pemberley.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Elizabeth, tell me truly. Did you meet him there by chance or intention?”
Elizabeth took a deep breath. “Entirely by chance. He was not supposed to arrive until the day after our visit, but he rode ahead of his party, and I met him as he walked up to the house from the stables.”
Her father stroked his chin. “And how did he receive you, after you quarrelled in the spring?”
“He was everything good, sir. He finished our tour himself and invited my uncle to fish in his streams. Miss Darcy came to call on us in his company the very morning of her arrival, and my aunt and I returned the call the day after.” She paused. “We were invited to dinner on the day following, but . . .”
“You were forced home by your youngest sister’s folly?”
She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Yes.” She held out Aunt Gardiner’s letter to him, and he took some time reading and rereading it.
“Well now,” he said, drawing the words out and leaning back in his chair, tapping one corner of the folded page against his lips before handing it back to her. “So I have Mr. Darcy to thank for Lydia’s rescue. I shall think on that. But it is clear his feelings for you are not of short duration.”
“Nor mine for him, though it took me longer to understand.”
“And this is why you have been so unhappy. I must say, it was terrible to watch, Lizzy.”
“I thought I had lost him forever, Papa.”
Her father’s expression softened as he gazed at her. “I wish you could have told me of it, but I suppose affairs of the heart are not a thing a young lady takes to her father. And I admit I would likely not have known how to advise you. Did you two speak at all when he came in September?”
She shook her head. “I was sure, then, that Lydia’s behaviour had made it impossible for him to speak, even had he wished it.”
“I see.” He opened a drawer and withdrew what appeared to be a legal document, “it seems he left for town in September in order to retrieve this, my dear, but as he thought you did not wish for his presence, he did not return.” He moved around the desk and took the chair next to hers.
“What is that?”
“It is a common license.”
“A license?” She gasped as the meaning struck her. “Amarriagelicense?” Mr. Darcy had not said a thing aboutwhenthey would marry. She had guessed he would leave it to her. But had he inquired, she would have wished to marry as soon as possible.
And now they could.
“The issue, as Mr. Darcy has explained to me, is the license itself. It is only valid for three months, you see,” Papa told her, a little glint of mischief shining from his eyes. “And that means you must be married on or before the twenty-fourth of December.”
Elizabeth’s mouth hung open for a moment. “But that is less than a week away.”
“It is indeed.”
“I will be married by Thursday?”
Her father smiled. “It could not be timed better, in my view, for the Christmas feast your mother already has planned can double as your marriage celebration. Waiting two and half months for your sister’s wedding is not something I feel prepared to repeat just yet, not if I can avoid it.” The smile faltered when she did not reply. He hesitated for a moment before he moved to the chair across from Elizabeth, where he took her hand and asked, earnestly, “Would marrying Mr. Darcy next week make you happy, my dear? For truly, that is all that matters.”
“Papa,” Elizabeth said, very seriously, “You know how important Mr. Darcy is, and I am afraid a simple country wedding will not suffice. I would rather wait. Six months should be enough.”
Her father’s face paled considerably, but to his credit, he did not protest. “Very well, my Lizzy. You shall have everything you wish for.”
